


That One Where Dean Realizes That If Sam Is Abel Then...

by wookieefucker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3387158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wookieefucker/pseuds/wookieefucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean fights Cain and comes to a couple of realizations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That One Where Dean Realizes That If Sam Is Abel Then...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I haven't written fic (that's been posted) in years, honestly. Sorry if my characterizations are off or anything.   
> I wrote this for my friend Thierry. They talk Supernatural with me constantly, and I'm a better human being for it, honestly. Why we both still love this trash show is beyond us, but we'll be with it until the end, I think.  
> So, anyway, please read, enjoy, maybe leave kudos or a comment if you have the time and think it's worth it! Those things really do nurture an author's soul.  
> Peace out!

Dean felt powerful. Gripping the first blade tightly in his hand, he closed his eyes and just exhaled. He let everything flow out of him except for his desire to kill Cain – no, his desire to save Sam and Cas. When he opened his eyes and inhaled he felt like he could hold on long enough to finish the job. He had to hold on. There wasn’t another option.

Circling Cain inside the barn, ringed in by a devil’s trap that couldn’t physically hold him, yet trapped him all the same, Dean felt the blade in his hand surge with power. The mark burned in response. It wanted to be used; needed to be used. It was like burning alive without any way to quench the fire, and Dean wondered if this is what Sam’s demon blood addiction had felt like. If so, he really needed to apologize to the kid. This was worse than hell ever was.

When Cain started in on his whole spiel about how Dean’s story was supposedly going to end, Dean couldn’t take it. The way Cain talked about Cas, and Sam, and how Dean would kill them both was awful. When he talked about Dean living his life in reverse it made Dean want to vehemently deny everything, although he couldn’t put his finger on the reason why.

All too soon he was scrabbling through the straw and grasping the blade and then it was over and Dean didn’t have the energy to think about it anymore. Giving the blade to Cas was easily the hardest and easiest thing that he could ever do. He could blame his exhaustion for the way he baited Crowley. Dean knew that that would come back to bite them in the ass later. 

Back at the bunker, Dean collapsed into a chair and just let Sammy talk. Words flowed over him and he barely listened – just enough that he could nod out a response every once in a while. Something was still worming through his brain, trying to be puzzled out, and Dean was too out of it to really work at it. When Cas got back he felt relieved and also a little ill. He couldn’t help but ask about the blade, even when he knew that he didn’t really want to know. Dean was thankful when Cas didn’t tell him where it had been hidden. He felt a little dizzy as he zeroed in on Cas’ tie. Since when had he had that blue and white striped tie? 

Muttering something about sleeping for the next four days to Sam, Dean walked out of the room, passing Cas on his way. He patted a hand down on Cas’ shoulder and walked on, when all he really wanted to do was fall into his strong and steady arms and be held for days. Dean chuckled self depreciatingly as he got to his room. “We can’t always get what we want,” he murmured to himself as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He was too exhausted to even get his boots off, and so he just flopped backward and stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come.

Hours passed and Dean hadn’t moved, but sleep still eluded him. A gentle knocking at the door made him groan, but he didn’t move. Eventually when the person behind the knocking didn’t get the hint, Dean leaned up a bit and called out, “ ‘s open!” Cas pushed open the door and Dean snorted. Of course. Sam was treating him like glass and now Cas was here to talk about feelings, probably. He let his head flop back against the bed and Cas sighed.

He walked over and stood next to Dean before saying, “I have learned that sleeping while fully clothed is not conducive to relaxation.”   
Dean closed his eyes and snarked out, “Cas, I barely have the energy to keep my eyes open, do you think that I have it in me to get undressed and say my prayers before I get tucked in?” Cas looked at him speculatively before pulling a chair over and picking up Dean’s feet to rest them in his lap. “The hell are you doing, man?” Dean asked, uncomfortably. 

Cas paused. “I am getting you ready for bed, since you seem unable to do it yourself. And you do not need to pray to Heaven before you fall asleep. I am here to keep you safe and listen to your desires.” Dean swallowed thickly and kept his mouth shut. Cas resumed untying Dean’s boots, setting them one by one at the edge of the bed. Gently he also tugged Dean’s socks off, before placing his bare feet back on the floor. Dean could hear his heart thudding in his ears.

Next Cas urged Dean to sit up, before he rustled around in a drawer. He came back with a worn Led Zeppelin t-shirt that was faded and soft. Cas smiled as he rubbed his thumb over the fabric before handing it to Dean. Dean stared at it, almost uncomprehendingly, so Cas took it back. He got Dean out of his jacket first, and then all of the layers of shirts that he wore like armor to keep out the world. He traced faded scars on Dean’s skin lightly with his fingertips before getting him into the t-shirt.

Cas then knelt to the ground and sat on his knees before Dean. Dean felt like he was dreaming, and then everything slammed into place in his mind. He knew why what Cain had said had bothered him so much. If he was living Cain’s life in reverse then certain things had to happen. Cain had killed his brother, and then the love of his life. Dean was supposed to kill Cas, and then kill Sam. He bristled indignantly at the implications that that comparison held. He looked at Cas again and softened. 

Who was he kidding? Dean knew that he and Cas had a messed up relationship. He cared for the guy more than anyone else besides Sam, and Sam was special. Sammy was his little brother. Cas was – Cas was this nerdy little angel that had pulled him from Hell and stuck with him ever since. Everything he had sacrificed was for Dean. Was it so awful to believe that Cas was his Cosette? He guessed not.

“Stand up, Dean,” Cas commanded, and Dean did. Cas reached up and unbuttoned Dean’s jeans, slipping them down his muscular thighs, and letting them pool at his ankles. Cas stood and gently pushed Dean back down to sit on the edge of the bed and then slipped his feet out of the jeans. He left them piled there and helped Dean to lie down. He covered Dean with a blanket and tucked the covers around him fussily. Dean smiled into the pillow he had buried his face in and then groaned as his body finally caught up to him. It was protesting today’s rough treatment.

Cas had turned the light off and was about to leave when Dean said, “Uh, hey, Cas, you can stay. If you want.”

“Angels have no need for sleep, Dean,” Cas replied.

“Just come get under the damn blanket, Cas,” Dean grumbled, and Cas shut the door and walked jerkily over to the bed. He stood there and Dean   
kind of laughed before leaning up on his elbow. “I’ve been reliably informed that ‘sleeping while fully clothed is not conducive to relaxation’,” Dean said, while gesturing at him. Cas stared at him for a moment before it dawned on him. He would have blushed, if he had been human.

“Right,” Cas said, removing his trench coat and setting it neatly over the edge of the chair he had been sitting in earlier. The rest of his clothes followed until he was in just slacks and a shirt and Dean sighed.

“Just grab a shirt from the drawer man and lets get this show on the road. I’m exhausted.”

“One of your shirts,” Cas said. There was no question to his voice.

“No, one of Bruce Springsteen’s. Yes, one of mine! Come on, dude, I’m bushed.” When Cas didn’t move Dean sighed and tossed off the covers before stalking over to the dresser in just his t-shirt and boxers, well aware of Cas’ gaze following his every movement. He yanked an old shirt from the drawer and tossed it to Cas, who didn’t move after he had caught it. “Come on, man. Just get your pants off and get that shirt on and let’s sleep. I’m seriously two seconds from just collapsing right here.”

Cas did as Dean ordered and stood there in boxers and an old band t-shirt that was a bit too big and Dean just stared. Damn it if Cas didn’t look adorable. He was allowed to think that, right? Was Cas reading his mind? What if Sam ever learned how to read minds and saw that?

“Are we going to sleep together now, Dean?” Cas asked. Dean choked and Cas continued, “That is why you made me stay and change my clothing, right?” Dean realized that Cas hadn’t meant the innuendo and nodded.

“Yeah, I just… I don’t want to be alone right now. I figured you could stay. You’re good at watching over me. It’s uh, okay if you don’t want to though.” He shrugged awkwardly. Cas smiled slightly and stepped forward into Dean’s space. They were intimately close, and breathing each other’s   
air while Cas stared into Dean’s eyes. He grabbed Dean and held him tightly, hugging him close. 

“You are an amazing man, Dean Winchester, and this is the absolute least that I could do for you. You have done so much, sacrificed so much. I am proud of you, Dean,” Cas murmured into his ear.

Dean’s eyes ached as he fought not to cry, and he gripped his fingers firmly into the back of Cas’ borrowed shirt and just let himself be held. Eventually though Dean realized that they were two grown men – sort of – hugging it out in the middle of a dark bedroom and he coughed and stepped back, blushing. He got into bed and held the blankets up for Cas to slip under as well. Dean was asleep as soon as Cas got into bed with him, and he slept hard for a solid 20 hours. Cas didn’t leave the entire time.

When Dean woke up Cas was sitting up and reading a copy of 50 Shades of Gray, probably supplied by Sam as a joke. Dean was using Cas’ thigh as a pillow, and he lay there for a while, just dozing in silence as Cas rustled pages every so often above him. Eventually the silence was broken as Cas said, “This book is awful. It is thinly veiled abuse labeled and repackaged as erotica. People should not be reading this.” Dean laughed and rolled over a little bit before stretching. All of his bones creaked and popped, and his muscles protested, but Dean felt a lot better.

“They made it into a movie,” he replied, letting himself relax again. Cas leaned to set the book down carefully on the floor, and Dean noticed the strip of skin that was exposed as he did so. Cas sat back up and looked at Dean to determine if he was joking or not. When he decided that Dean was not joking, he frowned, and said nothing else. 

They existed in silence together for a while, before Dean sat up and leaned against the headboard, shoulder bumping Cas’ companionably. They sat together in silence a while more, and Dean couldn’t stop thinking about how life could be if he just talked to Cas about his feelings. He was sure that they were mutual. Well, mostly sure. It’s not like any of this was new. He’d been feeling things for Cas since before the guy literally got exploded for him.

Dean looked over at Cas to start this conversation, but he stopped short when he saw Cas staring at him with a fond expression on his face.

“Dean Winchester, you are impossible,” Cas said, before gripping Dean’s face firmly and pulling him forward into a kiss.

The world turned, and life moved on for a few more hours. Sam came by to knock on the door and check on Dean but his face turned white when he heard the noises coming from the room and he abruptly left. Dean sounded fine to him. Things were still royally screwed for them all, but Dean was mostly content. The world had shifted in one completely fundamental way, but it was still the same place. He and Cas would still have to talk, but until they did, this was enough. 

The slick slide of bodies under sheets, fumbling kisses in the dark, and frantic motions before they both fell into slumber again, sated and calm, for the moment, would have to do.


End file.
